


A Matter of Time

by Purpleyin



Series: Hartmon fanworks [10]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But mostly the team are background to Cisco and Hartley, Cisco Ramon Needs A Hug, Cisco Ramon Whump, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hartley Rathaway Needs a Hug, Hartley Rathaway Whump, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Iris and Wally and Ralph have some important scenes with Hartley, M/M, POV Hartley Rathaway, Plotty, Temporary Character Death, This is warning for major character death but it's not permanent, Time Loop, Whump, briefly mentioned past Cisco Ramon/Cynthia Reynolds, briefly referenced Barry Allen/Iris West too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/pseuds/Purpleyin
Summary: What should be a welcome touch sends mental alarm bells ringing. He turns to see Cisco's eyes earnestly searching his, and it's so familiar. That's how he knows it's too late.Hartley gets stuck in a time loop and has to figure out how to change the day to save Cisco and the team.
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Hartley Rathaway
Series: Hartmon fanworks [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1302293
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Hartmon Fanworks Exchange





	A Matter of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amber_Flicker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Flicker/gifts).



> Written for Amber_Flicker as part of the Hartmon Fanworks Exchange 2020 and the prompt “Hartley or Cisco (doesn't matter which, up to you!) stuck in a time loop trying to save the other.” It came out rather whumpy, and with a hefty dose of angst too, but I figured that was par for the course with timeloop fics so I hope that's okay. 
> 
> There's a brief mention of past Cisco/Cynthia and of Barry/Iris.
> 
> Many thanks to [noreasonatall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noreasonatall) for their help betareading this and showing me how I could improve/add to it significantly.

Bad days for Team Flash tend to be relative to whatever big bad is lurking around the corner. For Hartley Rathaway, bad days historically have come in two major strains, the first being increasing annoyances that build until he finds it necessary to retreat from the world for the remainder of the day lest he say something he'll regret. _Or_ , the second type, life-changing betrayals. Now, he can add a new strain to his repertoire, one adopted from Team Flash: death-defying encounters.

* * *

  
  


Hartley swings his legs around to sit up on the side of the bed, his bare feet landing on the plush carpet, toes digging into the pile, the sensation is a small comfort to him. His heart is still hammering in his chest; he feels it more than he hears it, the thumping unsettling. He can't hear it because he still has his meta-dampening earbuds in and no hearing aids on. He lifts his hand to find it steady enough, though he turns his palms up to reassure himself. They're clean, unsullied. He still has the urge to cough dust out of his lungs even though he barely remembers why.

What he wants to do is ring Cisco and hear his voice. That’s not exactly unusual, but the urge is disconcertingly strong today. Seeing him would be better, more reassuring, but of what Hartley can't quite pin down. As he gets dressed, he feels sillier and sillier about his shakiness. It was just a bad dream. Unless they've somehow unknowingly swapped powers, Cisco is the only one who has prophetic visions.

According to the clock, it's 7:40 a.m.; Cisco might not be awake yet. He brings up Cisco's contact anyway, fingers itching to press dial. The call history shows plenty of evidence of their late-night chats; they practically take turns to ring each other on the days they don't work together. Sometimes they merely use each other as a sounding board for ideas, but venting after a bad day isn't uncommon for them nowadays. Sometimes it's more about taking some time out to talk about something other than their day (and night) jobs.

That call history doesn't, however, show much in the way of morning calls, and it really doesn't make sense to call Cisco at an unreasonable hour just because he wants to. That would certainly invite questions he can neither answer nor adequately lie about to avoid further suspicion. Hartley eventually settles for sending a message. _Everything set for the hardware test at noon?_ He doesn't want to think any more about the carnage of his nightmare, and for a while, he gets his wish.

* * *

“Meta alert at the Opera House. Just a minute,” Iris says, pulling up the map on another screen. “That's at—”

“—on Gabler Street,” Hartley finishes for her as a cold dread creeps up on him. He resists the urge to shudder as déjà vu overcomes him.

“Figures you'd know where it is,” Cisco quips, though it doesn't have the bite his comments used to have now that Hartley's made up for his past slights. But Cisco isn't wrong. Hartley did frequent the Opera House when he was younger, until he cut everything associated with his parents out of his life. But the reminder of his parents is not why he suddenly feels sick.

He snatches Cisco's headset — prompting a startled noise and a “Rude, much?!” — but Hartley is too concerned with the roiling in his stomach and the fact that it's too big a coincidence that today's mission is starting the same way as his dream. “Ba— Flash,” he corrects himself, “don't go into the Opera House. She'll ambush you.”

“Ok-ay...” Barry replies. “Thanks for the tip. I'll be careful.”

“How did you know the meta's a woman? The reports didn't say.” Iris is looking at him the same way she looks at their evidence board, and Hartley knows he's got some explaining to do.

“I had a dream, but now I'm starting to think it wasn't a dream at all,” he replies as a strange feeling comes over him. Images he'd pushed aside before bubble up — the Cortex half covered in rubble, and blood on his hands. In reality, he's aware of Cisco staring up at him, and he feels a swoop of relief. Cisco is fine. Cisco is fine _now_ , he corrects, though he still feels foolish about his concern. If he knows what's going to happen, shouldn't it be simple enough to prevent it?

* * *

Cisco walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder, probably intending to commiserate with him over how badly Hartley has messed up his repeated day. Hartley is only able to recall things barely before they happen, without enough time to make a real difference.

What should be a welcome touch sends mental alarm bells ringing. He turns to see Cisco's eyes earnestly searching his, and it's so familiar. That's how he knows it's too late. A small tremor shakes the building the next second.

His heart, briefly full at the moment of connection, is swiftly crushed by the echo of what he knows will follow. Barry is still unconscious from the earlier ambush. No one is there to speed them away when the much larger tremors hit the building.

* * *

“Groundhog Day,” Hartley says.

Cisco swivels round in his chair, glancing up thoughtfully and removing the sucker from his mouth with a pop. He's on what looks like his second sucker of the day already, based on the discarded wrappers on the console area. Normally, Hartley would gently rib him about the likely energy crash coming, disguising his concern about Cisco's over-reliance on sugar in times of stress as annoyance over Cisco's lack of efficiency when they get to work on their joint project later. Right now, none of that matters, and it leaves Hartley feeling untethered, unable to figure out how to navigate their interactions — except by being blunt, perhaps. Essential information only. Hence, _Groundhog Day_.

“Is that a suggestion for the next movie night, or...?”

Hartley notes Cisco doesn't say _team_ movie night when he asks. They'd been having more and more nights just to themselves. Either gaming or movies. Sometimes just one of them would play a game at a time, the other simply happy to share in the narrative unfolding. It was nice when it was just the two of them, in an entirely different way from team movie nights. Being around the whole team felt a little overwhelming at times but had an enveloping warmth of a family unlike any he'd known before, while being alone with Cisco had an edge of another type of heat bristling his senses. _Groundhog Day_ isn't his favorite film, but he would have enjoyed watching with Cisco for his commentary alone. Probably not anymore, not for some time anyway — _if_ he can get out of this loop.

Hartley doesn't actually reply, too caught up in his thoughts, but Cisco seems to catch on from the lack of witty retort that this is a serious situation.

“A time loop, right, check. Well, it's not our first rodeo. Let's hope we don't set a new record; I've got enough memories in this head without adding another fifty-two versions of today.”

Fifty-two? Hartley hadn't been around for that grim adventure, but he's unnerved at the idea he might repeat this anywhere near as many times. The enormous responsibility of fixing the loop, plus the memories slowly coming back to him, are making him feel anxious and claustrophobic in a way he hasn't felt before.

When Hartley doesn't reply, Cisco gets up and takes a step closer, and Hartley is uncertain for a moment what Cisco intends to do. He doesn't move any closer than that though; instead, he crosses his arms and taps his foot, glancing away thoughtfully.

“Luckily for you, that means I'm already a pro at this. Time to tap into the other timeline. Then you won't be the only one who remembers it. Easy win.”

Famous last words. One minute Cisco is standing in front of him, and the next his knees are buckling. Hartley is fractionally too late to react, only succeeding in easing Cisco down slightly slower, and he ends up following him down until he's on his knees himself. There are maybe ten seconds of intense panic where Hartley _can't think,_ and he just stays there next to a slumped Cisco, gripping Cisco's arms as if they're a lifeline. Then Cisco is blinking rapidly, groaning as he sits up and his nose starts to bleed.

“We're _not_ telling Caitlin about that.”

Hartley nods, but he doesn't know if he should go along with that. He’s still in shock and a little shaky, and all _he_ did was _witness_ the collapse. He can only imagine how bad Cisco feels, but Cisco is already pulling himself up from the floor with the help of the console desk as a support. Cisco reaches for a tissue from a very handily placed box that suddenly makes Hartley wonder if Cisco needs them for his nosebleeds much more regularly than anyone knows.

As he gets up himself, Hartley watches Cisco carefully. Cisco takes a few deep breaths and then stands up perfectly straight; there’s no swaying or any other cause for concern. Hartley has to admit Cisco does _look_ okay, if one ignores his need to plug his nose with a tissue. Really, Cisco should get checked out after that, but that worry is warring inside him with the need to address the larger, more immediate problem.

Hartley is afraid to get too off-track and mess up today again because the stakes are so high for all of them. If they waste time now, Cisco will certainly die again at the end of the day, and a little nosebleed won't matter anymore. Besides which, he needs Cisco’s cooperation, and forcing the issue won’t go down well. The last thing they need is to get into an argument right now, especially when Hartley is already feeling overwhelmed and might not be able to keep from saying something more revealing than he usually allows himself around Cisco. If Cisco says he's fine, it'll have to do, no matter how much Hartley wants to side with his heavy heart on the issue.

* * *

By the time the others have arrived — except Barry, who is characteristically late, and Joe, who's on shift at CCPD — Hartley's rolled in one of the boards and written up what he knows. Which is frustratingly little.

Hartley had tersely communicated the bare minimum to a frustrated Cisco, who he harried into calling the others to speed the process up. Cisco is doubly frustrated seeing as he hadn't managed to vibe anything before he passed out. Hartley's just glad Cisco hasn't suggested trying to vibe the other timeline a second time. All Cisco wants to do is help, but Hartley doesn't want to waste time going over things multiple times. Not to mention, it was hard to look at Cisco tending to his bloody nose — and a trickle from one of his ears too — without feeling the urge to protest Cisco's ignoring his health for the sake of the mission. Cisco hastily deposits the bloody tissue in his pocket when Caitlin arrives, and Hartley reluctantly decides to let the incident pass without comment.

When Hartley finally turns to the assembled group, Caitlin has her doctor-worried-for-a-patient frown on and Iris is squinting at his writing with her head tilted. Ralph looks confused but interested, patiently sipping his coffee. Cisco looks like he's holding back from saying something; Hartley wants to know what, but he wants to be out of this loop more. So he pushes his curiosity down, trusting Cisco will vocalize anything salient.

“I'm in a time loop. I've lived today at least twice, and so far, today does _not_ go well, to say the least.”

Iris asks, “Did you get speedster powers somehow?” at the same time Caitlin says, “I'd like to do an MRI and full body workup.”

“No and no. I don't think that's a good use of our time.”

Caitlin purses her lips, clearly not happy about that, and Hartley's probably going to have a larger battle on his hands there. Cisco finally opts to say something.

“So, what ends the loop? You go to sleep and wake up today again à la Phil Connors on his good days?” Cisco asks. Except Cisco isn't asking with humor. He's sitting in his chair, looking almost deceptively laid-back, but there's a tenseness to where his hands grip the chair that implies to Hartley that Cisco knows the real endpoint of this loop.

Cisco is staring at him, intent on an answer Hartley isn't sure he wants to speak out loud. No one else says anything either for that long moment, and Hartley swallows hard, wishing he could find a way to dismiss the notion but coming up blank. Gallows humor isn't really his forte, and innuendo or snark isn't going to help here. Though he doubts Cisco would find anything funny or morbidly comforting in this case.

As far as Hartley is concerned, the end of the loop isn't worth thinking about. It's not like knowing precisely what happened to him is going to help them; there's no point in letting Cisco, or the others, dwell on that. Today is another day, and after all he's filled them in on, it's bound to have another outcome.

“We need to warn Barry. Where is he?” he asks, breaking eye contact with Cisco and turning his attention to the screen on the wall behind him that shows today's schedule.

He feels bad for moving the discussion away from Cisco's question and can't hold his gaze as he does so. It was uncomfortable enough having Cisco looking at him like that, without adding his reaction to Hartley's non-answer. Relief washes over him when Cisco doesn't call him out on his deflection, but there's a rebellious part of him that wants Cisco to, wants to know Cisco cares enough to. Which is ridiculous, because he knows, deep down, Cisco cares about him, at least in some way. But it's all a matter of time; they don't have enough to waste on anything unnecessary, even if there's an internal voice of his that says he _needs_ to know. He's done well enough dismissing that voice in the past — packing away those inconvenient feelings and focusing on what's in front of him — and today it matters all the more that he stay in his lane and not get ideas that will distract him.

* * *

  
  


Hartley learns the hard way that speedsters aren't easily dissuaded from their planned course of action. He tells Barry what's going to happen, as much as he knows, as soon as he knows it, and Barry promises to be more careful. To do things differently.

The Opera House is a trap, the perfect amplification of Aftershock's tremors, but she does fine without it when they figure that out. Barry always ends up piled under rubble they have to dig him out of, and, ultimately, in the medbay, incapacitated for god knows how long because his healing doesn't kickstart as it should have.

Which means Aftershock is free to roam and unchallenged when she targets STAR Labs. Coming back to finish the job with Barry, he assumes.

This time will be different. Hartley dials the number and hopes the phone on the receiving end is on this Earth and in the right hands.

“Wally, I need your help. I need you to do something for me, no questions asked.”

Honestly, Hartley doesn't feel too bad about arranging for Barry to be put in the pipeline, given the weeks he spent in there at Barry & Co.'s behest. It's not a vengeful whim though, it's a necessity to change the timeline more significantly. Barry can't be incapacitated; they need him to save them when the time comes. Wally sticks around, which can't hurt.

They don't count on Aftershock bringing the fight to them early. Hartley isn't much fazed by it. He's prepared, and as he feels the first tremor, he presses the button on the remote to open Barry's cell, figuring no matter how mad Barry is at his imprisonment, a meta attack takes precedence. With two speedsters on home ground, they should be able to evacuate everyone and capture their troublesome new meta.

“She's here. Evacuation time, _vite_ , _vite_ ,” Hartley announces on the comms, mostly for Barry's benefit. Time really is of the essence, if only because his experience has shown that her stronger tremors interfere with the comms, creating a temporary blackout and a lack of data on precisely how she took Barry down previously.

But when he glances over at Wally, Wally is still standing there, staring at his quite stationary hand with his brows knitted.

“My speed... I can't.” Wally sounds so bereft, and normally that would bother Hartley, but he feels every thought and emotion drain out of him at the news. Everything except the sheer panic of what's going to happen. What's going to happen _again_ , despite his best efforts. It's Wally beside him, wide-eyed, this time.

Hartley has a front-row view as a large hunk of concrete collapses into the entrance of the side lab where Caitlin and Cisco are. At least, he hopes, it only blocks the entrance. He'll never know for sure, perhaps fortunately. It all goes dark, until he wakes up in his bed again to the lesser vibration of his alarm clock.

* * *

“How sure are you that this is going to work?” Hartley asks. “I thought you needed an object to vibe someone.”

Cisco gives him an admonishing look at the implication he can't vibe without something of Aftershock's, and Hartley feels bad for doubting Cisco's skills, because it's not like asking changes the odds. And if they can locate her, they might manage a stealth capture — one done so fast she doesn't have time to retaliate — and this could all be over very quickly.

But Hartley's current problem is, he can't help but feel nervous out here. They're at a safe house not too far outside the city limits and everything is too quiet, which sets him on edge almost as much as too noisy would. Every time a vehicle passes in their vicinity Hartley is conscious of it, waiting for something to go wrong, and the faint rustling in the woods is an eerie backdrop to that tension. Even though STAR Labs clearly isn't the best location to work from, Hartley isn't feeling any safer in this unfamiliar safe house. There are a lot of unknowns with this loop, which makes him uneasy, but the fact this loop is going quite differently might be a sign of progress.

“What I have is you. You've been closer to her than the rest of us, and more than once with your looping. I'm hoping she's left an imprint on you. Might be faint, but as long as it's there...”

Cisco holds up his hand, and it takes a moment for Hartley to realize he needs to take it to initiate the vibe. Despite their friendship, he's not used to touching Cisco, as they don't purposefully touch very often. A hand on his shoulder, a pat on his back, the briefest of hugs (with upper body only, of course). Hartley is always aware of the times their legs touch or their bare elbows brush for a second when they sit close to each other on the couch. He enjoys those moments probably more than he should. Being up so close and grasping Cisco's hand sets him on edge in another way. Not being able to see Cisco's eyes with the Vibe goggles helps make it less personal at least. Cisco tightens his fingers around Hartley's. And then tightens them further.

It's only a couple of seconds later that Cisco wrenches his hand from Hartley's and bends over, clutching his head. “Augh!”

Caitlin is by Cisco's side in an instant, and Hartley takes a step back to give them space. Iris hovers nearby too, having abruptly ended the phone call she was on. Hartley's heart is hammering almost as fast as Cisco's — he's not sure if that's a sympathetic response or just from his surprise at Cisco's reaction. He wants to know if Cisco is okay, although he obviously isn't right now, and Caitlin is best suited to making sure he will be.

It's still difficult to watch Cisco wince and hear his stunted, pained answers to Caitlin's hushed queries. Hartley can hear enough to know that the vibe didn't work _and_ that it triggered a migraine. He still wants to rush to Cisco's side, but there isn't anything he can do to help. He knows exactly what it feels like to be so over-sensitive it hurts, so he also knows the best thing he can do is leave Cisco be. Quiet rest — and dark, too, in Cisco's case — are the best healers, and nothing he can do will help there. Caitlin is mouthing something Hartley can't lipread but Iris catches the meaning of, jogging towards the kitchen area. An icepack, he suspects, and he wishes he'd thought of that and pre-empted the need. He watches mournfully as Caitlin shepherd's Cisco to one of the bedrooms.

With his focus so intently on Cisco, Hartley doesn't realize someone else's focus is on him. Ralph comes up and nudges him with his arm, a buddy-buddy move that Hartley isn't fond of when they don't know each other that well, but also isn't inclined to make a fuss of. He and Ralph don't have much in common, and Ralph's many wonderings slowing down his daily debriefing process hasn't improved Hartley's opinion of the detective.

“You know, I'm pretty sure Cisco would do almost anything for you.”

Hartley glances sideways at Ralph, finding it hard to understand where this blanket statement is coming from or leading to. “Team Flash looks after its own. He'd do the same for Barry, Caitlin, any of you,” Hartley replies.

“It's interesting,” Ralph starts up again, “'cause I know he used to think you were a world-class jerk. I mean, I kinda was too, so I know he can change his mind _if_ you give him a reason to. But—” Ralph waggles a finger to illustrate his point and the finger waggles disconcertingly more than it should. “—you, that was _some_ turnaround. He used to hate you, and now...”

Ralph gives a nod to the side but annoyingly leaves the sentiment half-finished, hanging there meaningfully. “Now, _what_ , Ralph?” Hartley asks a little more sharply than he intends.

Ralph gives him a wry look and shakes his head a little, having the audacity to look amused.

“You're smart. Do you really need me to fill in the blanks?”

Ralph tries to pat him on the shoulder, some show of solidarity, no doubt, but Hartley isn't in the mood and brushes it off. Between the misguided advice and knowing Cisco's in pain in the other room, he's more on edge than ever.

He has a bad feeling he can't shake, and it's only grown worse since they got here. But all he can do now is get back to working on how Aftershock could be nullifying speedsters' powers, without Cisco. He prays that Barry or Wally find Aftershock with their city-wide search.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They don't find her. She finds _them_ , at the safe house — perimeter alerts giving them warning enough to be a little more proactive. Turns out, it wasn't just Barry she wanted to finish off, seeing as he's not here. Hartley can only suppose the unsuccessful vibe has something to do with her turning up.

Iris gets one shot at the meta with Harry's gun before the windows are blown out by a tremor and the gun is lost in the chaos. Ralph's quick reaction shields them from the worst of the blast, but they aren't entirely unscathed. Hartley is quick to get up, ignoring the way the cold wind sensitizes his wounds as he peers out the open window frame. He watches the meta stumble before she shimmers out of visibility somehow. The air around her has a glimmer to it, and there's a painful whine carried to him on the breeze but he can't say exactly where she is. The gun will be practically useless even if Iris does locate the thing under the debris.

Cisco is half-out of it, groggy from napping, when he stumbles into the main room, and Hartley doubts Cisco's in any state to breach them away. If Barry and Wally arrive, will they even be able to help if Aftershock expects them and does what she'd done in the other loops? There's no plan, and no time _to_ plan, and Hartley doesn't know what to do. His heart is hammering again, and his senses are on hyper-alert, so when the next tremor hits he pays it a lot more attention than he has done in previous loops. There's a pattern to it, decreasing in intensity until the rumbling stops at Cisco like it's found its target.

Then the next tremor starts, and it's the opposite, the rumbling increasing to a fever-pitch as it reaches Cisco. Hartley pushes Cisco out of the way, off-center of where he's expected to be, but it's a futile move. The bricks come down anyway and Hartley can't breathe, everything is so heavy.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Why _Hartley_?” Iris asks, and there's that look again. She narrows her eyes, but he knows it isn't out of distrust in him, it's her pulling on a thread that needs to be unraveled.

“Good question. Wish I knew myself.”

This is not the first time Iris has asked that, and it might not be the last time either, though Hartley can hope. Sometimes he ignores her question, focusing on the science. His usual approach is to skim past these questions with concise replies in order to move on to what's important. But for all he knows, the answer to her question _is_ something important. They haven't figured out yet what exactly is and isn’t.

It's like this bad day is a record being etched further and further into the fabric of reality with each go around. He remembers more than a dozen loops before this, but how many doesn't he remember at all? Each time, it seems to take less to shake the details loose. He can't stop his mind from reeling at the possibilities. How long before this is how things shake out permanently?

* * *

With each loop, Hartley grows more afraid, mainly of the idea he might not wake up one of these days. The evidence suggests he will, but without knowing what's causing the loop, there's really no guarantee. Hartley hates unknowns.

And the fear isn't just for himself. What if Cisco dies and the loop stops? He doesn't actually know the outcome of the roof caving in. Hartley often survives long enough to come to and see his bloodied hands, choke on the dust, and then lose consciousness. That's generally the point at which he wakes up and repeats the day. Not knowing what comes after had been a comfort for a while. Now, with the apparent unavoidability of the meta attack, it feels much more like a looming threat.

Hartley has lived through — for a certain value of living — at least three weeks of near-constant crises. He's not sure he's slept properly, given that his rebooting comes after unconsciousness. Even if he has, the pressure of saving Barry, and everyone else, is a lot. He's helped on missions before; it's just never been up to him alone. The team will have his back once they understand — once he's made them understand, which is its own annoyingly repetitive sequence he's perfecting for efficiency and minimal queries — but every morning he wakes up with the weight of that responsibility, racking his brains on what to try next.

Hartley wants a day off. Logically, he knows he can't have that, not when, for all he knows, today could be the last day he gets a do-over. But he'll allow himself a few minutes. A reprieve.

“Hey, Cisco,” he says, strolling in with a tray of coffees. 'Good morning' doesn't feel fitting, but he tries to keep it casual, which is probably a mistake, he realizes as Cisco swivels around and squints at him like he might have been replaced with a doppelganger. Hartley's never been a cheerful morning person, but seeing Cisco alive and well adds a certain cheer. Cisco decides to leave the weirdness be, simply asking, “Is one of those for me?”

“Sure,” Hartley says, setting the tray down so Cisco can take his coffee. Hartley hopes his explanation will go smoother with everyone well-caffeinated. By his estimate, he's got about fifteen minutes before the whole gang is here. About five minutes of solitude — or rather, near solitude, with Cisco here. At some point, he's not sure when, Cisco's company started being not simply tolerable, but welcomed. They still bickered, of course, but it was the good-natured kind, more friendly than not.

Cisco raises an eyebrow and questions, “Um, why does my cup say 'Call me' and your phone number?”

Hartley peers at the writing on the cup that Cisco turns toward him.

“That's... _not_ my phone number.”

Hartley is honestly thrown. He's gotten so used to the day going more or less the same that this deviation, completely unrelated to metas, stuns him. As he thinks back over his actions, he blushes at the possible reason for this confusion. Cisco's favorite order was off-menu, a rather particular preparation that he only ordered on bad days. Hartley was a bit presumptuous in ordering it, but he knows how awful things may go, and besides, Cisco deserves good things in general, not just on bad days. What made Hartley blush was the conclusion that the server must've mistaken his fond smile at Cisco's odd habit when placing the order as flirting with him and that the order he was taking so much care over was his own.

“Guess you'll be wanting this after I'm done with it,” Cisco says, the sharpness of his tone shaking Hartley from his thoughts.

“No,“ Hartley says automatically, not bothering with a carefully worded answer. He's too worn out to try right now, but it's also because his mind is stuck on Cisco's tone, on the idea that Cisco is jealous. Normally, Hartley would dismiss that as unlikely, or rationalize it as Cisco's grumpiness at his breakup (even though that's more or less in the past by now) or a slight bitterness at being alone. Normally, Hartley would find reasons to ignore how he feels and to ignore how Cisco _might_ feel. Might being the important word. His uncertainty about the latter presented a risk he couldn't calculate properly.

But today, he just wants to live. He wants something more than annoyance and frustration and desperation. If this could be the last day for him, for Cisco, for all of them, he wants to spend at least part of it doing something unburdened by that concern. He wants to stop worrying about the future for a minute.

Hartley leans over to tug Cisco up by the hand. Cisco goes along with it, confused but possibly curious, and hastily puts his cup down. Hartley brings his hand up to Cisco's neck, his thumb grazing gently along Cisco's jaw. Cisco stands there, and Hartley isn't sure if he's breathing until he sees Cisco take in a deep, shaky breath. Cisco doesn't move away like Hartley feared he would, so Hartley leans in. He can hardly breathe himself as he closes the gap between them.

When his lips finally meet Cisco's, it's like everything gets so much more real. Because Cisco's hand is in his hair all of a sudden, pulling him closer and teasing at his scalp, making him moan a little. And Cisco's lips are enthusiastically exploring his. Hartley tries to commit to memory every detail of how it feels to kiss him.

Hartley feels so much lighter in that moment, where his only immediate concern is what feels good and learning what Cisco likes. Cisco has already drawn one moan out of him, and Hartley wants to draw one from Cisco in return. Hartley brings his other hand up to cup Cisco's face, and his fingers trace down Cisco's neck and over his t-shirt to his bare arm, provoking a shiver from Cisco at the barely-there touch.

Cisco deepens the kiss then, tongue licking along Hartley's lips, enticing him to open his mouth. Hartley had seen this morning go a lot of ways, but frenching Cisco in the Cortex was, surprisingly, not one he had considered trying until today. One small, unforeseen, change had led to this, and that gives Hartley a renewed hope that they can change the day in other significant ways too. And a reason to keep on trying; he doesn't know if he can bear for Cisco to lose this moment, but one way or another, he'll find out soon enough. Reluctantly, Hartley pulls away from the kiss, acutely aware of how little time they have left before the others get here. Hartley definitely needs some time to compose himself before that.

He tears his eyes away from Cisco, worried that if he stares too much at Cisco, flushed from kissing him, that he'll want to go right back at it, and they absolutely can't. Not with what Hartley has to tell the team. He wishes kissing Cisco was the most important thing he had to do today, but alas, no.

“What brought this on?” Cisco asks, still a bit out of breath but sitting down again, adjusting his trousers surreptitiously. Hartley almost gets sidelined again at that, a flare of heat spreading similarly low in him.

The only decent answer he has for Cisco is the truth. Something he's been economical with, too guarded for his own good.

“Life is too short. And I've wanted to do that for a while,” he says with a smile. He stares at Cisco like he's wanted to for months, too, without the barrier of what is proper and measured, without the battered shield of scorn he has held up far past reasonable.

Cisco accepts that well enough, and soon after, the others appear. Hartley's sure that his answer will make even more sense to Cisco once he's explained what's gotten into him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I don't like this,” Cisco says as they stand on the airfield, but Hartley isn't sure why he's telling him that for the third time. They've been over all the angles of the plan and made sure it was a decent one. Hartley has a better chance than in any other loop, which is all he can ask for at this point.

It's much harder to read Cisco's body language when he's dressed as Vibe — the goggles hide his eyes and the stiffness of the gear makes him hold himself differently compared to civilian-clothed, geeky t-shirts Cisco. The irony isn't lost on Hartley though, seeing as he's currently _also_ dressed as Vibe, or at least as close an approximation as they can manage on short notice. The cheap wig itches where it meets his skin at the edges of the cap, but that's the least of Hartley's concerns.

What Hartley _can_ tell — despite the getup, that looks fetching on Cisco at least — is that Cisco is acting differently, getting up in Hartley's personal space. Hartley doesn't want to step back and give the wrong impression, but he's not used to it either; it throws him off-balance. He can also see Cisco's hands fidgeting with the fastenings of his gloves, keeping them busy. The thought that Cisco may be trying to hold back from reaching out to him makes Hartley blush a little. However, he doesn't want to read too much into that. Now is not the time to obsess over every little thing — not unless it's about the plan.

If this goes pear-shaped, Hartley probably isn't going to be around for anyone to say 'I told you so' to. He also isn't going to be convinced not to act as bait. If this goes wrong, chances are Hartley will just wake up again. He hopes.

“Ready to vibe her?”

“As I'll ever be.”

Hartley hates to ask Cisco to do this, knowing it will cause the mother of all headaches, at best, or a fully-fledged migraine like before. But Barry is on standby to speed Cisco away to a safe distance and give him painkillers if needed. Cisco is intent to be on standby as help in case things go wrong, but having seen his condition after vibing Aftershock in the last loop, Hartley doubts Cisco will be able to do anything other than watch.

Last time, it took Aftershock a couple of hours to find them, but the safe house _was_ outside the city. They're not sure how long it'll take within the city limits, but it pays to be prepared, and Hartley really hopes he _is_ adequately prepared this time. He has one glove ready to twin to the frequency of Cisco's vibe feedback once they capture the data for it — they're expecting it to be Aftershock's vibrational signature interfering with the vibe — and the other ready to switch to Cisco's unique frequency.

Not that the latter would mean much without masking Cisco himself – Hartley has jury-rigged another prototype glove of his for Cisco to wear in order to modulate his frequency to that of Hartley's own. It will probably worsen Cisco's post-vibe pain too, but like everything unwise about this plan, it all comes back to being a necessity. Cisco probably isn't going to be able to protect himself after he vibes her, let alone achieve what they need to take her down.

Cisco takes Hartley's hand, holding it tight, and the only indication that he's vibing is the thin trickle of blood that drips down from his nose after a few seconds. Cisco's hand grips his tighter as he struggles to hold the vibe for as long as possible. There's a beep from the glove indicating they have the data they need, and Hartley puts his other hand on Cisco's jacket-padded shoulder. “Come back, Cisco. You can stop. It's over.”

Over for Cisco, at least. With a tap on the comms as the signal, Barry blips in to collect Cisco, and Hartley turns on his other glove to mimic Cisco's vibrational signature at the same time as the prototype he slips into Cisco's pocket to mask him. Then Barry and Cisco are gone, and Hartley goes to wait inside the portacabin that's meant to be his hideout.

Hartley is alone and scared, but probably not as scared as he should be, because some part of his mind can trick him into thinking that no matter what happens he'll just wake up again, frustrated but no worse for wear. This whole time, across the loops, it was the unknown that caught him out. But he's used his time well, filled in a good number of gaps enough to understand where they — _he_ — went wrong.

The plan feels solid. All they need is a precious few seconds to locate Aftershock's signature more precisely with the first wave, and then use her own trick against her to counteract the wave she would throw Vibe's way and give Wally time to apprehend her without any interference. Not an infallible strategy, but with luck and surprise on their side, this could be over for him too, in an hour or so.

When the first tremor comes, Hartley knows what to do, opening the door and steeling himself to blast the waves at his opponent in quick succession. Now it's just a matter of timing.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Aftershock is deposited unceremoniously at Iron Heights, and Hartley can't wait to get out of his ill-fitting Vibe getup. Wally speeds him back to STAR Labs, but Hartley takes a pass on being speed changed, eager to get into some jeans and a hoodie but at his own pace. He's going to enjoy there being no rush, no time limit for the first time in many, many days.

By the time he's come back from the locker room, Caitlin is fussing over Cisco, and Hartley is glad to see she's wrangling him towards the MRI because Hartley was already worried at how much the vibe took out of Cisco compared to usual. Hartley had asked him to vibe, and while Cisco had readily agreed, Hartley couldn't stand the idea of Cisco being seriously hurt because of his plan. The pain is bad enough to have caused. He really hopes Cisco won't take any chances with his health while he recovers. He considers going in to back up Caitlin, but it does look like she has it covered, if only because Cisco looks too exhausted to disagree for long. Everyone, himself included, is going to need serious downtime after this. It's been a long day, even for those who only lived it once.

Iris catches his eye at the Cortex desk and nods toward the corridor Hartley just came from as she gets up. Curiosity piqued, he follows her out. Whatever she wants to discuss evidently isn't for either Caitlin or Cisco's ears.

“I've been thinking about why it was _you_ who kept looping,” she says.

“Do go on.” Hartley crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, weary but interested in her suppositions nevertheless.

Iris takes a beat to study him, and he doesn't have enough energy left to figure out what has her hesitating to continue.

“There's so much we don't know about meta powers. Take the Speedforce, for example. How Barry interacts with it is... complicated, to say the least. But I do know I'm connected to it in some way, through Barry.”

Hartley is still so tired that he's not sure quite where Iris is going with her thoughts, but he trusts her instincts and lets her carry on uninterrupted.

“He always finds his way home to me, his— his lightning rod.” Iris blushes a touch at the mention, and the stammering, however small, isn't like her. He has an inkling she's sharing something rather personal with him. He just doesn't know to what end. “With breaching, I think we know even less, but Cisco did tell me once that he and Cynthia were connected.”

“She was a breacher—”

“And _you_ hear a lot of things no ordinary human can. There's kind of an overlap in your powers, isn't there?”

“I'm not sure I'd put it like that,” Hartley replies, slightly losing patience and pinching the bridge of his nose. He's increasingly wondering if it even matters why the loop happened so long as he doesn't wake up to this morning yet again, but none of them have control over that. After it all, he can only hope for rest. “Iris, what are you getting at?”

“Whenever you woke up it was right after something bad happened to you, right?

“Yes. And to Cisco, to all of us.”

“You saw Cisco get hurt and he saw _you_ get hurt.”

“So?”

“Cisco's vibed other timelines before where he died. I don't know if it was coincidence or if he was somehow warning himself with his vibe.”

“You think my memories of what happened were me sensing a vibe of his?”

“I don't know, but your powers are sound-based and sound waves are just another type of vibration, aren't they? Besides, you and he are... _close_ , and that type of bond—”

“What?” Hartley asks, voice coming out a touch higher in his bafflement at the way Iris says 'close' and the matter-of-fact delivery, like it's a foregone conclusion that he and Cisco are a thing. It probably isn't wrong, but it startles him anyway. That's a conversation with Cisco that's best had when they're well-rested and pain-free.

Iris tilts her head and smiles smugly, though on her it simply looks charming. “Oh come on, you were _not_ that smooth earlier. Plus, Cisco couldn't take his eyes off you the whole time you were debriefing us. Not to mention, he was super fidgety in his seat and _very_ concerned with not showing his lap the whole time he was staring at you.” Iris ends her clarification with a meaningful eyebrow raise and all Hartley can do is sigh and look away, not willing to address it directly right now. Iris claps him on the shoulder and says nothing more, having had the last word.

As she walks away, something she said reverberates within him. _Sound waves are just another type of vibration._ Cisco wasn't the only one that applied to. Hartley isn't sure they'll solve this mystery anytime soon, but something about the adrenaline-fueled intersection of powers — his, Cisco's, and Aftershock's — nags at his brain.

* * *

Hartley would be perfectly fine leaving everything until tomorrow, but he needs a lift home — not wanting to rely on Speedster favors there — which means retrieving his phone from his tray on the console desk to order an Uber.

Cisco, it seems, isn't satisfied to leave things unsaid until tomorrow, because he's waiting in his chair at the console and pointedly turns to meet Hartley's gaze as he enters the room. Cisco is also looking the worse for wear, but definitely more focused than when Hartley was last around him after the difficult vibe. Hartley can hear a lot of noise in the background of the medbay, and not long after, Caitlin all but scurries out the Cortex with a harried “'Night!” without even looking in their direction.

He guesses Iris isn't the only one to have noticed something has changed. Hartley had prided himself in being discreet about his feelings, wanting to allow Cisco to ignore them if they proved inconvenient to friendship or their working relationship, and yet, by the reaction of not one but two of their friends, Hartley feels he must have been overestimating his skill there.

“You kissed me,” Cisco says, expression unreadable for a moment, making Hartley's heart skip a beat.

“You kissed me back,” Hartley counters, not sure how to cope with this conversation and the return of all his fears at that moment of doubt. _You kissed me back_ is as much a reassurance for himself as it is an unintended riposte.

Cisco gets up then, and Hartley's heart skips another beat at the realization that Cisco is moving closer. Not running away like a treacherous part of Hartley's mind suggests he will.

“What would you have done if we hadn't stopped the loop?” Cisco asks as he stands level with Hartley, only a foot separating them.

“I probably wouldn't have done it again, not until we were out of the—”

“Loop?” Cisco finishes for him at the same time Hartley says “—woods.”

“Before you ask, no, we are not using 'into the woods' as a code phrase for being stuck in a time loop. If only because I sincerely hope to never experience one again.”

Cisco is unnaturally quiet for a moment, not taking the chance for a humorous quip, glancing down until he seems to drum up the resolve to address what's bothering him.

“So... you'd have kept it to yourself? If it'd been erased by a reset.”

Hartley swallows hard as Cisco searches his eyes for an explanation he can't immediately give him. There was a good reason he hadn't wanted this conversation now, while he's tired. It'll be much harder to pick his words, and he doesn't want to say anything that could be misconstrued.

“I wouldn't have wanted you to feel... obliged to live up to a decision you didn't actually make yourself.”

Cisco steps forward, putting him impossibly, temptingly, close but not touching. Hartley can't stop himself from staring at Cisco's lips. All he wants to do is put his hand in Cisco's hair and pull him that much closer.

“I'm glad our first kiss didn't get erased,” Cisco says quietly, for his ears only, and Hartley sees his gaze flicker to his lips too, proving Hartley is not the only one with a repeat performance in mind.

“Yeah?” Hartley asks, feeling a little giddy with the mix of awe and exhaustion settling into his body. He sways a little, and Cisco's hand is quickly there on his arm to steady him.

The next moment, Cisco is pressing a brief, chaste kiss to Hartley's lips. It's over far too fast for his liking, but Hartley closes his eyes, chasing the sensation as it occurs. He keeps them closed after, savoring the moment of tenderness as Cisco hangs in his orbit, breath ghosting on his cheek in the aftermath.

“Hartley Rathaway, do you want to go on a date with me?”

Hartley opens his eyes to look into Cisco's, marveling in what it's like to have Cisco looking so intently at him, with an undisguised longing and _hope_ that appears to match his long-suffering, and apparently not-so-well-hidden, desires.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” Hartley states optimistically. The promise of that — tomorrow — is sweet and intoxicatingly light after the grind of so many days the same.

“Will do,” Cisco agrees with a small smile and a nod.

Hartley's finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He closes them for what he thinks is just a second, leaning against the desk for support, but when he opens them again, Cisco is holding his phone out to him, and there's an Uber notification saying his ride is there.

“Did you just hack my phone to order me an Uber?”

“You're welcome,” Cisco replies, but Hartley is slow when he's this tired, and the scowl and confusion must register on his face for too long. “Don't worry, I only use my powers for good. I can show you the code tomorrow if you want to know about the backdoor too. I only made it for emergencies, like being kidnapped, which is, frankly, way too likely if you're a member of Team Flash. Be grateful you can't cross that out on the bingo card.”

If he wasn't so tired, Hartley might have made a snarky comment, or probed Cisco about the existence of bingo cards that he suspects Cisco might actually possess somewhere in his userspace. As it is, Hartley just nods and gratefully accepts Cisco's guiding hand, pushing him towards the door, towards his ride and the opportunity to sleep.

He decides that when he wakes up in the morning, he's going to call Cisco, whatever the time is, just to hear his voice. And to give him the chance to ask him out again. He reckons he might get away with calling so early just this one time, and he's fine with playing that card so long as he _gets_ a tomorrow to do things differently.


End file.
